


now I see daylight

by Mia_Zeklos



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Banned Together Bingo, Celebrations, Children, F/M, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Post-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, in the mildest of forms, mentions of different parts of the birthing process
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29128467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mia_Zeklos/pseuds/Mia_Zeklos
Summary: The King and the Queen in the North celebrate the birth of their daughter.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	now I see daylight

**Author's Note:**

> This is nothing but fluff. Written for the square _Naughty Children_ on my Banned Together Bingo card, since I've written half of said card and don't actually have a bingo yet. So here I am, catching the last train possible! This is, therefore, written very quickly and not to be examined too closely, haha. Still, as always, feedback is most welcome!

Even as the hour grows late, Jon can't find an ounce of exhaustion within himself - or, at least, not the kind that would mean putting an end to the feast.

The day had been eventful, to say the least. It had started out that way, too, with Sansa waking him in the middle of the night despite her best efforts when she, in turn, had been woken by the pain suggesting that their child - their _daughter_ , as it had turned out - had decided that she simply couldn't wait a moment longer to be introduced into the world. After what had felt like a small eternity, the little princess had been in their arms, ready to be welcomed by her kingdom, and it had been later still - much later, when the late spring sun had already dragged itself high into the sky - that they had decided that with enough effort thrown together, they could start the celebrations on the same night.

It would take a while for everyone who had been invited to arrive and honour their new princess, of course, but Jon hadn't minded - as is, Winterfell is alight with music and dance and even Sansa, doubtlessly more tired than she lets on, is still making her way between the tables as she always tends to do, careful but steady in her movements.

It had been an easy birth, thank the gods, just like the last time. Rickon, their firstborn, had come into the world without too much fanfare, and his little sister had followed in his footsteps three short years later, and he's quietly grateful. Children had been a topic they had danced around for a long time - far more perilously than their guests currently are - and they had always known that they wouldn't be alone, what with every bit of help they would have at their disposal in the castle, and by the time they had both decided that they would like to give it a chance - and the kingdom a heir - Jon had been surprised to realise how impatient he would feel to meet the children in question; to hold in his hands yet another manifestation of the gradual, careful way they'd both rebuild themselves from the ashes that the war had left behind. They had had a lot to learn, but it had all still been so unexpectedly _easy_ that celebrating it once again had felt like the only natural response. Days ago, when their Maester had assured them that the babe would be arriving any day now, they had even gone through the trouble of preparing--

"Jon?"

He's startled out of his reverie by his queen's anxious whisper as she approaches their seats again and his eyes stray out into the warm night through the open doors of the castle once he follows her gaze. There's a distinct smell sneaking in, past the food and the ale and the usual scents accompanying a large group of people in a relatively small space. Smoke; the kind he would usually associate with a quickly burning fuse.

Fireworks. They'd gone through the trouble of preparing _fireworks_.

"Have you seen Rickon lately?"

"He was with Maester Derren a moment ago." He can swear it, but neither his son nor the Maester in question seem to be anywhere around. Jon jumps out of his seat, hurrying towards the courtyard outside, but even before he's halfway there, he knows it's going to be too late - the night comes alive with light and colour and sound, shooting stars flying upwards into the sky without any of the careful order they had been planned in.

"Rickon!" There’s no use, of course – what’s done is done, and Jon can only laugh as he plucks the candle out of his son’s hand, his impossibly big blue eyes too innocent to be anything but suspicious. “What are you _doing_?”

“Celebrating.” It’s a difficult word and it takes him a few moments, during which most of the guests have poured out of the castle to watch the unexpected entertainment, their queen at their heels as she quickly approaches them, too. “Mama said we could! There would be,” he points up, as if it’s self-explanatory – and to him, Jon guesses, it must be, “ _big_ candles to celebrate—”

“Yes, yes.” _Big candles._ That’s certainly one way of putting it. “Did she say _when_?”

“I did,” Sansa says as she comes closer, their daughter once again in her arms – presumably, so that she can remind her older brother why they’d gathered here in the first place. “Didn’t I, Rickon?”

“Yes.” The lone word has all the confidence and condescension that someone his age can muster – a formidable amount, as they had found out by now. “When it gets dark!”

And it is, though it feels nothing like it, at least to Jon – the stars are blinded out by their celebration and for now, he can see nothing but light.


End file.
